Safe
by Iggy Paulin
Summary: If this was how he was going to end, the mercenary could at least made sure that he was dead before he turned tail and ran. Would have been better for everyone involved. SLASH


**Safe**

He's lost track of time, but he knows that at least two days have passed since he got himself stuck underneath his goddamned car. Well, really it wasn't his fault, it had obviously been an attempt at his life. He'd bet all of his inheritance that Vic Humphries was behind it, he wouldn't lose a penny. He would like nothing more than to plant his fist in that pudgy face and wipe that smirk clean off, but there is a time for everything and assaulting the man he's supposed to testify against will only result in him digging himself a deeper hole. That is the last thing he needs seeing as he's already in a pretty deep ditch. It's been way too long.

His voice is gone too, lost it sometime after Sonny left him to die. Used it all up with shouting for help and trying to gain contact over the radio to no avail. He's all alone, trapped under the twisted steel that used to be his car. If this was how he was going to end, the mercenary could at least made sure that he was dead before he turned tail and ran. Would have been better for everyone involved.

It's getting hard to breath, each intake of air grating against his dry throat and cutting like shards of glass in his lungs. The burning sun isn't making anything better either. Usually he would have been glad to be out here, enjoying nature and everything it has to offer. The fresh air, clean of the smog covering Bay City. The dry dirt and sand under his feet going up in little clouds for each step. Starsky moaning and bellyaching behind him about the warm sun and lack of burritos or hamburgers and the like.

God, he misses Starsky. His only hope for survival. He was probably climbing the walls the second Hutch didn't show up for work. What he wouldn't give to be sitting next to his partner and getting his ear talked off about cars, food, women and anything else's that may cross his mind. Hell, he might even be willing to indulge Starsky in anything he'd want to do, anything.

He can't feel his leg anymore, the hard edge of the steel digging into his thigh is gone. He can see it there, but he can't feel it. There is a strange sort of desperation settling in the pit of his stomach, he's only felt it once before. Back in Duluth when he had just turned thirteen and wanted to be a big boy. Tired of his parents pushing him around he'd ran away, didn't get very far. Got his leg stuck in a rabbit hole right outside their neighbour's farm. Sat there for hours thinking he was going to die because nobody would find him in time or care enough to look. They did find him though. It was dark and he was on the verge of falling asleep when he heard the leaves crunching and saw light shining among the trees, minutes later he got pulled out of the narrow hole by the strong arms belonging to the sheriff. That was the day he decided he wanted to be a cop.

Look how much good that did him. Back in the same predicament only much more serious this time around.

Gets robbed while he's down there too, a couple of kids looking to collect some money. They take everything in his wallet and empty his pockets. What are the chances? A dying man trapped under a wreck in the middle of nowhere. He's sure quite a few of the guys down at the precinct would have a good laugh if they ever found out that him, the blonde, rich man's kid from Minnesota got robbed in his last hours. It doesn't make much of a difference anyway because everything he owns is written down under Starsky's name in his will, he's got no one else to give to and his partner deserves it all anyway.

He almost refuses to believe it when he hears the rumble of a V8 engine echo off the mountainside. He's going to live. He hears the distant sounds of a fight and his name being called seconds before someone comes skidding around the turned over car and drops down next to him. Warm hands are cradling his head, lifting it up from the ground, thumbs stroking across his cheekbones.

"Hey." He's out of breath and the word is barely audible. "We made it, bud." And Starsky appears above him, blurry, but unmistakably Starsky. He tries to say something, but his parched throat dries it out into a weak cough as his partner leans closer until he's only inches away. "We made it." It comes out clearer his time now that he's got his breath back. The next thing he knows Starsky has closed the distance between them and he's never felt safer.


End file.
